


ah, leanan sidhe

by 10hr10minute



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, seungcheol is very minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10hr10minute/pseuds/10hr10minute
Summary: starring famous artist (lee jihoon) and his muse (kwon soonyoung)(a leanan sidhe is a creature in celtic folklore that takes a human lover in exchange for inspiration. however, it is said that the artists often grow mad and more common still, suffer a premature death)





	ah, leanan sidhe

**Author's Note:**

> \- look here, there are a number of things with this one like casual mentions of death and sex and stuff and one scene of a blowjob so i'll put it at m even though that's never stopped anybody
> 
> \- more notes at the end

EXT. ROADSIDE - MIDNIGHT

Enter Choi Seungcheol. 

He is walking alone, flowers cradled in his arms, and a little way down the road is a short building.

Hoshi, - an exhibition by Woozi

The doors open for him automatically as they sense the weight of his feet at the entrance. One by one, the lights come on to illuminate the path, tak, tak, tak. It was a tiny exhibition, Seungcheol already knew, just one stretch from the start to the end, and the five paintings hung along the two walls.

This was a collection of Jihoon’s greatest works. Or his most well loved. Lee Jihoon, famous for his paintings of his muse. An ethereally beautiful blonde man, whose form was always sculpted perfectly, like a doll, a grace and cleanness inhumane. Yet all the conflicting whirlpool of human emotions were always captured in his eyes painted with vibrant strokes. 

Seungcheol momentarily stopped at the first piece, reliving.

_ title: i see a lily on thy brow  
_ _ description: with this piece, the idea of a central subject was brought up and discussed. although the matter would later be clarified by woozi himself, it caused a huge debate in the art world at the time _

Jihoon powered through his front door, two packets of food hanging off his arm as he wrestled with the troublesome lock that clinked and protested the inserting of keys which he really should look into replacing soon.

“I’m home.” He called.

There was no answer but Jihoon could guess why. He padded his way to the couch, en route, he pushed aside some of the junk on the dining table to set down the packets. As expected, Soonyoung was there, taking up all the space and then some as he sprawled out, legs dangling off the armrest. His face was entirely relaxed, seemingly without a care in the world. 

The man really did constantly hog Jihoon’s couch. Whether it was inviting himself over for a movie, or staying up to accompany Jihoon as the latter nearly tore his hair out about a piece for his finals, or just lying there procrastinating his own readings.

“I’m only dating you because of this couch.” Soonyoung declared once.

“Then let’s break up.” Jihoon returned.

“I’m kidding! I love you Jihoonie.” 

Jihoon shook Soonyoung’s shoulders roughly.

Soonyoung blinked blearily at him for a few moments before his face cracked a smile. 

“Hey, welcome home.”

“Come on, I bought us food.”

Soonyoung answered by stretching, letting out a high pitched sound as he did, and then getting up to follow Jihoon’s lead to the table.

“How did the meeting go? You’re kind of pale.” He asked easily as he reached for the disposable chopsticks.

Jihoon slid his packet to him. “It was okay, I’m just tired, they liked the painting well enough.”

“But of course, because it was you who painted it!” Soonyoung beamed. 

Jihoon ignored him, he opened his packet of kimchi fried rice and the fragrant smell wafts into the space. Then his hand stilled. “Hey Kwon?”

Across him, Soonyoung hasn’t even touched his packet yet although he fiddled with the chopsticks. “Yeah?”

“I love you, you know.”

Soonyoung’s smile widened. “I love you too.”

Something flashed by Jihoon in an instant, his hand clutched from the force of it and before he knew it, the chopsticks it was holding snapped into two with a sickening crunch.

The sound surprised Soonyoung, and he dropped his own pair.

Then Jihoon ate in silence.

* * *

 

_ title: with anguish moist and fever-dew  
_ _ description: real name unknown, a person that woozi described as being his muse. the project was officially given a name. hoshi. it meant star in japanese. any other meaning is to be interpreted individually. _

It was such an arbitrary process.

“So, is it to your liking, Jihoon-ssi?”

Without looking, he can feel Soonyoung clench his fist behind him. 

There it was, that statement repackaged as a question. The man was smiling as he rubbed his fat palms together, it was such a grimy smile. He could always say it bothered him, but then the next day there’d be word of Woozi, the finic. Checking the exhibitions were always such a hassle, more politics than concern over the display. Because there was “meaning” in the placing of the pieces, the more visible it was, the more popular it became. As with the ones they hid in the corners to leave to rot.

All Jihoon cared for was that his painting brought to life the image he envisioned in his mind, and that the lighting was bright and white enough so it did not dilute the colours.

“Yes, this is good.”

“Well then, if that’ll be all, I hope you take care and we’ll meet again during the opening.”

Jihoon nodded, not wanting to waste anymore words. Watched the man leave and relished in being left alone.

He looked back at his own painting. As the creator, he’d seen it a hundred times, and many more with all its steps along the way, yet there was always something different about it when it was put before a foreign backdrop.

This particular one, he painted the image of Soonyoung, reflecting the late morning light filtering in from the windows half closed. His skin was pretty, but his lips were chapped, and there was a hint of shadow under his eyes. It was the first time Jihoon learned to associate the name Soonyoung with anything concrete.

“Hehe, I remember this moment.” Soonyoung chirped.

Jihoon agreed, it was a memory dear.

Because Jihoon had been a college student, and an invitation to a party was an invitation to a night of recklessness and irresponsibility no matter whether he knew the host or not. Besides, an artist needed to experience. Maybe then he’d get over his art block. Well, he sure did get under someone else, it was someone he vaguely recognised from having a class or two together but didn’t know. His blonde, fluffy hair stood out and they were sat next to each other at the drinks, Soonyoung no inhibitions, Jihoon no rationality.

Soonyoung took him home, took off his clothes, took him to bed, and all Jihoon felt was a blurred out rush of lightness in both his steps and heart.

Needless to say, the morning after was awkward as balls. Everything had been uncomfortable, there was a wave of heat so tangible, Jihoo felt the prickle against his skin and the beads of sweat forming. So he shifted, tossed and turned to find a good balance. Next to him, Soonyoung let out a groan, and Jihoon froze.

There they were, two people barely past strangers, naked under the covers. A loud thrumming in Jihoon’s head and a slight burn in his throat, which he supposed must no doubt be Soonyoung’s condition as well because then he said,

“Can we rain check the awkward talk for later? My head hurts.” And he raised an arm to cover his eyes to supplement his complaint.

Jihoon couldn’t deny the pounding in his own head so he said, “sure,” as he rolled over to face the wall.

They did have their talk a few hours later, whereby Soonyoung stood leaning against the doorway, sipping a glass of water, and Jihoon trying to cook something simple through the haze in his mind.

“Sorry, I really suck at cooking.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty good at sucking dick.”

So Soonyoung laughed, and it wasn’t awkward at all.

Jihoon blinked when someone else came to stand near him. He couldn’t recognise the guy but there were only a handful type of people who would be here at such a time. Another artist if Jihoon had to guess.

“Wow, that’s a good painting you got. And a good strategy too, got to be starving or gay to pass as an artist these days, isn’t that right?”

“Shut your filthy trap!” Soonyoung threatened.

“That’s enough.” Jihoon spat through his teeth. It was quieter and more controlled but there was the flame of challenge in his eyes.

For a few seconds, it seemed like the guy didn’t want to back down but he did. Clicked his tongue and stomped his feet as he spun with force for the exit, but not before punching one of the walls for effect.

It must have been the noise that summoned the guard, who poked his head in just as the other guy left.

“Sir, is everything alright?”

“Jihoon?” Soonyoung peered into his face, “are you okay?”

“It’s fine.” Jihoon replied.

“But Jihoon, he insulted you.”

“Everything’s good.” He grabbed for Soonyoung’s hand with a slight, discrete movement, and pressed it against his thigh.

“Well, if you say so.” The guard shrugged. “If nothing’s the matter you should leave soon too, you’re the last person in the building.”

* * *

 

_ title: and on thy cheeks a fading rose  
_ _ description: largely considered to be woozi’s maiden work, it is his first piece to be recognised as well as the first under the new name _

This emotion that he felt, it was beyond irritation. His foot, against his control, tapped a butchered melody against the concrete, and all around people flowed in and out, all with purpose while he stood and waited. He checked his watch, an old analog piece given to him by his father, it read a quarter to seven.

Seconds after that, he whipped out his phone as if unable to believe the watch. Numbers glowed on the screen. 7:47pm.

Jihoon thought he might have growled. His fingers fly across the screen and the next thing he knew, he was dialing Soonyoung’s number.

“I’m really sorry!” Soonyoung screamed into his ear as soon as the line connected, covering Jihoon’s words with his own.

“To hell with that! Do you know what the fucking time is now?!”

“I’ll be there soon, Seungcheol hyung is driving me. I have a good reason, I swear.”

Jihoon scoffed. “Then let’s hear it.”

“Eh? I can’t say it now...”

Despite his rage he could still picture Soonyoung scratching his cheek, a nervous tick.

“And you expect me to believe your crap? I’ve been standing here for 45 fucking minutes, Soonyoung!”

“I do have a good reason. Seungcheol hyung, please attest for me.”

The older male’s voice is muffled by the distance. “I’m trying to drive, Soonyoung.”

“But hyung.” Soonyoung whined.

“SOONYOUNG WATCH OUT!” Seungcheol’s voice came so clear because he shouted. And then there is a terrible cacophony of noise on the other end, a meshing of many separate things until it became impossible to tell where one sound ended and another began. It didn’t make any sense in parts but it was understandable as a collective.

Jihoon’s heard the sound of his heart shattering thrown into that ugly mix, and then he’s lost in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Yet it was surprisingly easy to breathe, and to move, and the tears don’t come. And it should have been unpleasant but Jihoon didn’t want to forget. 

So it started as a simple wish. He began to spend long hours in his studio, longer than ever, working with his paints and his brushes, and trying to get them to mix in a combination that best reflected what he saw. Hurriedly, he was in a rush because anytime the memory could fade away, the human mind had always been fallible like that. If he didn’t feel hungry, he wouldn’t eat. If he didn’t feel thirsty, he wouldn’t drink. Anything that took more time than necessary was a hindrance.

Naturally, Seungcheol grew concerned. He limped towards the door of his friend’s studio one evening, the cast strangling his leg, and the crutches digging uncomfortably into his armpits. 

He got a shock when he arrived and who but Soonyoung was standing there looking the way he did when they’d first met. Healthy and cheerful and free of injury. He was smiling, it was a smile Seungcheol will never forget. And he reached up to cup his cheek, as chubby as he ever remembered. But then his gaze flickered over to the handle and Soonyoung’s entire demeanor changed. Now he is angry and hostile and unwelcoming. His hand is blocking Seungcheol’s from reaching the handle and Seungcheol gave up there.

Instead, he limped away to clear Jihoon’s rubbish for him. They pile up now that Jihoon has labelled the act of clearing them as time consuming and low priority. Seungcheol can’t help but notice the packets of food, half of them empty and half of them full. 

When he’s done with that, he went to Jihoon’s door again. Soonyoung was still smiling there. This time Seungcheol called and called until he got an answer, the most non committal grunt he’s ever heard. By now, his throat was also a little dry from all the yelling.

“Don’t strain yourself too much.” He advised.

Jihoon didn’t answer so he’s unsure whether or not he heard him but at the very least, he’s said his piece. Soonyoung watched him but did nothing. Seungcheol took his worry home.

A few days later, Jihoon emerged to excitedly beckon Seungcheol into his studio. Although he was a little worse for wear than usual, the older’s worries were momentarily staved. Jihoon took him in, his eyes twinkling as he unveils the piece that he poured his hours into.

In his picture, Soonyoung is going away, heading to somewhere off canvas, and the area around him is bright and shrouded with light, but the other half is plunged in darkness even though it is the half with streetlights.

Of course Seungcheol noticed, and the worry came flooding back full force.

Instead, he bit the inside of his cheeks and said, “just don’t do anything that either of you will regret, okay?”

“I won’t.” Jihoon assured, certainty in his tone.

It is that certainty that scared Seungcheol the most.

* * *

 

_ title: fast withereth too  
_ _ description: the fourth piece in the series, and somewhat controversial because of its deviation from hoshi’s usual portrayal. nonetheless, it is recognised as one of the more beautiful pieces _

There was no rocket science behind the names. 

Soonyoung was Hoshi because Jihoon always likened him to the stars. A steadfast radiance.

Jihoon was Woozi because that was the nickname that Soonyoung gave him, as horribly childish as it seemed. 

But there was barely anything else of Soonyoung left behind to cling onto so Jihoon had to take that nickname, mould it into his identity.

Soonyoung was seated on the couch, again, he puffed his cheeks. “But it is genuinely cute.” He protested.

“That’s because you’re biased.”

Soonyoung huffed with even more purpose. “And you’re the cutest in the universe, so it all comes together.”

“Stop talking, Kwon.”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes, then seemed to have another idea. “Hey come here for a sec.”

“What’s this about?”

“Just come here.”

Jihoon complied, sitting himself on the seat next to Soonyoung’s. Before he could grill Soonyoung any further about his intention, the other had already situated himself snugly between Jihoon’s legs, fingers ghosting the zipper of Jihoon’s pants. 

“Stop.”

“Is that what you really want?” Soonyoung challenged.  _ zzzzzzip _ .

Jihoon could feel his breaths turn shallow, his body overcome with the need for more air until it forgot how to be efficient. Soonyoung was amused because he was right, and he pulled out Jihoon’s dick, half hard. Trailed his hand languidly up and down the member while he looked at Jihoon turning increasingly flushed.

“How about it? Blowjob before bed?”

But he wasn’t playing fair, dipping his thumb into the slit like that. 

“Fuck, Kwon.” Jihoon hissed.

“Hmm?” Soonyoung responded, eyelash fluttering, the definition of innocence and his mouth much too close to the head of Jihoon’s dick. “What do you say?” He asked again, and the wind of his breath when he spoke made Jihoon shiver.

“Yeah… sounds good.”

Soonyoung was smirking seconds before he parted his mouth to take Jihoon fully. His eyelids flutter shut naturally and Jihoon cussed as he licked and sucked and just sometimes, teased with his teeth.

But it’s not like they could tango with one. Because Jihoon was tangling his fingers in Soonyoung’s hair, and after some time he bucked his hips to thrust into that heat, watched while Soonyoung moaned and moaned prettily around him.

He didn’t warn the other when he came. It just happened. A contraction and then a release, and hot sticky cum dirtying the place.

Jihoon’s breathing still hasn’t regulated but he could feel his mind wandering off to the land of dreams, and Soonyoung was licking his hands after wiping off some cum from his mouth.

“You know I love you right, Kwon?”

Soonyoung paused, cocking his head quizzically at Jihoon like it was a strange question to ask. 

“I love you too, Jihoon.”

Wrong answer.

Was Jihoon’s final thought before he was snatched by sleep.

And when he woke up later, he was on the couch, pants down, alone. He threw his head back and laughed.

* * *

 

__ title: and no birds sing  
description: the final piece of hoshi that woozi spent five years painting, unfortunately he would lose his life before completing it  


It was all very sudden. 

Jihoon stared at his half finished painting. There was something wrong about, something that unsatisfied him. He wanted to capture it, Soonyoung in his last moments, but he didn’t know what it looked like. He didn’t know for five years.

Once, Seungcheol said to him, “you’re better off not knowing.” 

Which was true. Jihoon didn’t think he could bear but he still had to finish his mission. He had to keep Soonyoung alive. 

But then the pain came, arresting his chest and spreading all across his body. Involuntarily, he curled inwards, an instinctive attempt to press the pain away. In his new position, his butt doesn’t fit well on the chair and he fell.

Back flat on the floor to stare up at the beige of his ceiling. And the pain blooming steadily all over. 

“Jihoon! Jihoon!” That was Soonyoung calling him. He was crouching, hands unsure of what to do as they hovered around Jihoon’s body. His face contorted, features wild with fear. 

Looking at that face, Jihoon’s only thought was ‘is that what he looked like before he died? When he realised he was going to die?’

Soonyoung was not privy to those thoughts, he continued to scream as Jihoon’s world started losing focus, faded to black.

And it was black for a long, long time.

When Jihoon next opened his eyes, the beige ceiling was still there but the pain was gone.

“Hey.”

His attention was called, and it was Soonyoung, lovely as always, who was there speaking to him.

“Soonyoung?” He asked, tentatively, uncertainly, rising to a sitting position.

“Yeah it’s me.” Soonyoung brushed his fringe aside as he smiled. “You’ve suffered a lot.”

Yet, Jihoon couldn’t believe his eyes. “I love you.”

Soonyoung moved his hand to interlace their fingers. “I know, thank you Jihoon. I could not have asked for a better boyfriend.”

Jihoon’s vision grew blurry again, this time it was from tears.

“Hehe, don’t cry, you’re ugly when you cry.”

“Shut up you asshole.”

Soonyoung giggled, and then he leant lower to envelope Jihoon’s frame in his arms. “I love you too. I’ve missed you.”

They stay like that for more time to come. Jihoon was sure he had all these words stored away for Soonyoung if they ever could meet again but now they’ve disappeared, dissolved into his tears as he sobbed and sobbed, and Soonyoung held him silently the whole time.

“Where do we go now?” Jihoon mumbled into Soonyoung’s chest.

“There isn’t really anywhere to go but wherever it is, I’ll be with you forever.”

“A lofty promise.”

“This time, for sure.”

“This time.” Jihoon lifted his head to look Soonyoung in the eyes as he echoed the words. 

Soonyoung grinned, pressed their foreheads together. “For sure.”

* * *

 

Jihoon’s career had been a short, good run. But it was just as well since the public loved that shit, lapped it straight up. A talented artist possessed by the spirit of a lost lover. Jihoon succeeded in some sense, Seungcheol supposed, for Soonyoung will live on forever.

He breathed out a sigh as he pushed the exit door with his foot.

Outside, the sky was grey and the road gruelling. The temperature is several degrees lower and it sent a shiver down Seungcheol’s spine.

Here, the gravity felt different, his steps turn slow, the flowers heavy. And he finally arrives at his destination.

“Hey guys.” He greeted.

The graves don’t say anything back.

He set the flowers down, one for Soonyoung, one for Jihoon.

“I hope you’re both doing well.”

Briefly, so brief that he almost believed it to be a trick of the light, there were two forms before him. Soonyoung and Jihoon beside each other, both dressed in tuxedos. They look at him expectantly, and Seungcheol suddenly felt like a priest blessing a wedding.

Except that he doesn’t say anything but the two look content anyway, as they turn from him and walk elbows linked down the aisle, their bodies eventually consumed by light and Seungcheol knew he would never see them again.

**Author's Note:**

> \- yo, long time no see
> 
> \- hah, i've been gone awhile. sorry, it's just been pretty hectic in the real life division, and i also am slightly having a writer's block so i haven't written anything at all  
> \-- and i played persona 5 instead, where i learnt of the myth of the leanan sidhe and idk, this was just born  
> \-- i stayed up til 4 to write it in one sitting  
> \-- no proofreading either  
> \-- i'm also behind on the updates in the tag, so i really want to get back to reading when i can
> 
> \- on an unrelated note, i, wrote a very short h scene. i have no idea how that turned out but i want to disclaimer that i know nothing about sex yet felt like the scene had importance. a deadly combination
> 
> \- anyway, i will work on cwm without distraction from hencefourth! i decree!
> 
> \- so, see you with that next, bye~


End file.
